Look To the Skies
by Lee Savage
Summary: The Lich King is now unstoppable, and now as a darkness spreads throughout Azeroth and the worlds beyond it as a new enemy approaches. How will these futile worlds be saved?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- I do not own Warcraft, and if any content is similar or seems to look like an attempt to copy someone else's work, then I apologize because I am not trying to make an attempt to own something I do not. But I am positive that the Warcraft games belong to Blizzard Entertainment.

(A few months after the battle of the Frozen Throne)

The scarlet sky turned to crimson as the light from the "sun" disappeared and was replaced with relentless, unbearable dread. The lavender-skinned women with their bows in hand with their splintered and halfway broken arrows dangling from their quivers continued to trek farther and farther into the barren wasteland. The Elven women seemed weak and defenseless with their weak and cracked skin and the despair in the Elves' eyes. Their worn and ragged armor clung onto their now emaciated bodies. Beside the ill travelers, extremely dark and sickened cats walked beside their owners. The limping animals were what remained of the vicious, strong, and dignified Nightsabers that once strode into battle, roaring with ferocity and battle lust as they challenged the demons and other monstrosities in their paths. Meanwhile, on the cats' long and arched backs sat the Night Elven warriors that had raised them. This was once the dignified pet of the wild huntresses.

Tyrnic Smallmoon, one of the newest recruits, coughed and gagged on the suffocating air. She glared at the setting sun, which seemed to grow smaller and smaller, like their hopes for survival. She wondered if she would have fared better if they stayed with Mistress Shadowsong. Tyrnic, as a young and naive girl, had a deep respect for the infamous Warden. But, sadly, Maiev was so driven by the "hunt" for Illidan that she too had seeped into a vengeful madness. Fearing for their once immortal lives, a small group of Watchers tore away from their Mistress and sought their own goal, they desperately needed shelter and a chance for survival. Risking their lives in a suicidal mission such as locating a rogue demon hunter while weakened and going against sorcerers and sharp scimitars was not wise. Tyrnic once wondered if they _did _survive this ordeal, if they could possibly rejoin their insane leader and then try to take on Illidan.

But there were many issues with that scenario. First of all, even with renewed strength and maybe a few allies (_if _they were even _that _lucky), they were **no **match for the combined forces of the deadly Naga and the powerful Blood Elves. Most importantly, she knew that the abandoned Maiev would no doubt perish sooner than they. The darkness that clouded Maiev's poor, confused mind AND her seething hatred for the Betrayer would lead to her demise. The young Elf cursed. What was the point? They were no doubt meant to perish in this damned world. Oh _why _did she have to grow up to be an archer serving under a broken order? She would've had an easier life in her deceased parents' cottage, studying and watching the trees and birds.

Then again, she _hated _such dull activities. Curse her impatient mind. Many believed that Elves had the patience of leaves that waited many months to die on the forest floor in the glorious Circle of Life, but there were those who had a lust for adventure and enjoyed the rush of adrenaline through the heat of battle. Once again, she cursed her instincts.

A harsh and painful gasp alerted the sensitive ears of the weakened women. Her dusty blue hair seemed to rise as she turned hesitantly behind her. She was one of the last in the clumsy line formed by the Night Elf women. The red sand clogged her boots and caused her to trudge slowly through the Outland as her hopes for survival grew slim. She was the fittest in the group, with her brittle hair, slightly glittering silver orbs and pale, sweaty lavender skin. This was a bad state of affairs her Sisters were in.

She gasped sharply as she noticed one of her fallen sisters. The older woman was lying face-down in the silty, red clay. Tyrnic staggered to her. She knelt down slowly.

"S-sister?" The frail girl said feebly. The fallen women did not breathe, or show any signs if life. Tyrnic clutched her hands tightly as she was suddenly choked with emotion. She bent her head down onto other woman's left body absent-mindedly, and wept.

Still, after all of the pain from the last few months, Smallmoon still wanted to live.

But she knew that she could not go on.

(Thunder Bluff, Home of the Noble Tauren)

"_Peace is a fragile, almost impossible step toward resolution. A single mistake, a single skirmish, can shatter the very foundations of tranquility that we all strive for._

_Well, what MOST of us strive for._

_It was a mere decade since the chaotic battle of Mount Hyjal. The remains of the Demon Lord, Archimonde, still reside on the limbs of the great tree, Nordrassil. Three great, mortal armies rose to defend this tree, and their world, against_ _the demons that sought to ravage it, like they did many eons ago. Our people, and the other armies, have now attempted to rule our countries in peace. But, the elders have sensed a disturbance, and the arrival of the Si--"_

"Elder Windcaller, who are those strange creatures with the pointy ears that have visited our home?"

Elder Windcaller, a wise, aged tauren who had served the Horde during such troubled times, shushed the young child that interrupted his tale. The white, wrinkled sage with gnarled horns and a withered smile repeated his hand motion that he had used to silence the very young orc. The very young, unknowing orc. He remembered when he had been so eager, so ignorant of the malice of this world of war.

"Hush child. Listen, and I will tell you."

The green-skinned boy nodded at the frail, all-knowing tauren. The patient elder found the child's eagerness for knowledge refreshing.

"As I was saying, the arrival of the Sin'dorei, the Blood Elves, seems to have created a shift in the world's balance. They are tainted people, with a sorrowful past. Show respect to them, and our alliance will prosper." Elder Windcaller had seen some members of the Sin'dorei, and he felt the arcane corruption and hunger that they were enduring. He felt immediate sorrow and uneasiness upon knowing of this "disease." The Blood Elves seemed to mean no harm, but their motive for finding sources of new, dark energies was questionable, and certainly dangerous. Their troll brethren seemed to be suspicious of the Elves too. But, they of course, only truly trusted the honorable orcs, who seemed to have more faith in the Elves.

The Forsaken, the Undead renegades led by Sylvanas Windrunner, seemed to be very curious about the new additions to the Horde. They, of course, knew of the horrible destruction of their homeland, and some of the Forsaken were once High Elves, too.

Only time would tell ...

(Somewhere beyond Azeroth ...)

The large, sandy cave was filled with primitive sketches of twisted and even demonic, creatures. For all the time he had been in this barren place, Rynix had never seen anythingthat would have been considered "normal" among most of the inhabitants of Azeroth. There were no cute and "cuddly" critters or any mammals of any kind, unless if you counted the damned and forsaken humanoids that roamed this wasteland.Only corrupted and sorrowful monsters lived in this terrible place

Rynix trotteddeeper into the cave that he now called his temporary home. Along the walls were discarded barrels and jugs that once held strong alcoholic beverages. Rynix chuckled to himself. Pandarens were known to take likings to many types of ale.

Rynix continued to trot leisurely through the cave, humming as he went about. He had searched the cave several times. There were no monsters, except for the occasional arachnid.

The black-and-white bear man madea face as he pondered his choices for dinner. Demon hound guts, mutated worm entrails. Ugh. Perhaps he would be better off starving tonight.

A clanging brought attention to his scarred and furry ears. He _knew_ it was one of the damned over-sized spiders attempting to steal his ale. _No one _should mess with a Pandaren's ale! He grabbed a crudely crafted sword made of a sturdy type of plant found in his homeland and started forward, and was startled by a fearful shriek.

(Somewhere on the Icy continent of Northrend)

A voice inside the prince's headchuckledHe was now fused with his champion. He was now invulnerable, unstoppable.

The blade that _"he" _held suddenly tingled.

It hungered. Now, he could plan revenge on those who preyed upon him.

His soul erupted in a fit of insane laughter. **_The Hunter has become the Hunted._**

_---_

_A/_N - Okay, I've been hanging out an hour past my bedtime, and I'm still awake, so I decided to download this story. It may seem sort of dull now, but I plan to reveal everything and make it more interesting in the later chapters.I might revise thisbut I am too tired now. -.-

I apologize for any factual errors.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- Although I do have some characters that are made by ME, they are influenced by the Warcraft books and games which belong to their respected owners at Blizzard Entertainment.

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Chapter Two

A burning light glared down on the Warden that could only be the sun. She physically snarled as she held her weapon. It was a very, very sharp and legendary weapon. It was very deadly, and glistened from the dried, slick blood that had been spilt from the foul enemies of her beloved Elven kind. Maiev laughed mirthlessly, her laugh soon transformed into a mad shriek as her vocal cords vibrated and the earth trembled under her feet. Very faint footprints that appeared to be the Warden's seemed to be blown away in one single sweep like they never existed at all. How long would it be before she herself, Maiev Shadowsong, would perish is this hellish world? Without care and refreshments, she would surely die in the next few days, her mad hunt would then end as she soon faded away and became a meaningless legend that would soon be forgotten in the Sands of Time. Pure insanity had overcome the Warden, along with suspicion. Everybody was turning against her. Shan'do Stormrage, that idiotic Priestess, and now even her own Watchers. They were all criminals.

And Maiev couldn't tolerate criminals. They would pay, and rot in the hell that they brought upon themselves. Although there was still one rogue that had to be dealt with first ...

The Betrayer. _He _was the first and only reason she stepped into this Elune forbidden place. Despite her efforts, that rogue had slipped from her hands again and again, until it finally sent her off the edge.

But she wouldn't give up. For she was Maiev Shadowsong, the Hand of Justice. Mad or not, she knew that she would finally win the hunt.

_One way or another ..._

---

A haughty blood Elf clad in the usual scarlet robes walked through the dirty roads in Orgrimmar. He felt like showing his sardonic dislike for his allies, but sadly, he had to put those feeling in check, for now. He walked past _very_ crude braziers and buildings made from very rough hands as he continued to pass several green brutes. He stopped at an open passageway that led to what seemed to be a home to one of the greenskins. He peered into the humble home to find a smaller greenskin, which appeared to be a child, sitting on a ... By the Gods! Was that supposed to be a _rug?_ It looked as if someone had skinned a twisted, half-human, half-centaur and had removed its outer form. That ... _centaur_ was one tasteless piece of work. Its face was lopsided and empty as its mouth sagged open on the ground as it showed its very little, broken tooth remains. Sickening.

With an arrogant tilt of his head, the mysterious being continued down the crude road is slight satisfaction. He smirked.

_His master would be pleased._

_---_

_(Some time later)_

A figure shrouded in shadows kneeled before a darker figure that was upon a throne, with his head bowed. The strange creature on the throne did not acknowledge him until her advisor whispered in her tapering ear. She tilted her head upwards, but stared down at the meager shadow in her presence. The woman spoke.

"It appears that my trusted agent has returned." She stated, her voice cold and emotionless. The kneeler shuddered, his Mistress's voice contained a tone that contained all of the coldness and torment of a brutal winter storm. "I expect that you have important news to report. Yes?"

"Of course." The kneeling man looked up, the dim light of nearby torches lit his face up and he stood erect. The room he was in seemed to contain no warmth, and the stone was translucent. In the center of the room, far from the ice blue torches, the smooth ground began to rise until it spiraled into a throne, where a single figure rested upon. The feminine creature resembled an Elf, albeit a very pale, tainted one. Her eyes seemed to pierce his bones. Her hair, a long wave of silver, seemed to cover part of her sharp features. The lady appeared to have once had the potential to possess alluring beauty, but her visage was now twisted into an image of deep, sadistic rage. He reminded her, not of a seductive goddess, nor the visage of a burning demon, but rather, a combination of both.

Her dark eyes continued to glare down at the puny Blood Elf. He was arrogant, and callow. _Beware. _She thought. _Your arrogance toward your superiors will be your undoing, unworthy one._

But he was an excellent spy ... for the time being.

"My people have been linked to these desolate plains for too long. We need more power, and for that to occur, I will need powerful allies, and weak foes. None will withstand the might of the Death Elves. There will be, of course, endless rewards for the obedient, and a crushing defeat for those who dare defy me. Do you understand, Blood Elf?"

"Please, milady, you may call me Sunstalker." Sunstalker lifted the edges of his lips up in a friendly smile, revealing glistening white teeth.

The well-muscled guard standing at his lady's side growled and his spine grew rigid. "Fool!" he barked. "You will address your superior as Mistress, or Mistress Sataga! Nothing else!" He stepped forward, ready to pummel the lowly fiend.

"Now now, my dear advisor, we mustn't attack our trusted _ally_." Sataga's voice was calm, but deep down she was too trying to refrain from murdering the idiotic fool. She touched her necklace with long, gnarled nails. That elf's, _Sunstalker's, _teeth would've made a fine trophy for her collection, but she had larger prey in mind.

"Mistress ..."

Sataga's eyes flared. "Do not fear, if our spy proves unworthy of our alliance, I will see that you personally can handle his betrayal." To the Blood Elf's disappointment, the warped advisor smiled, his crooked jaw appeared to mock the less experienced, scarlet robed elf. He flinched slightly.

"It would be my pleasure."

"Now," The Mistress said, her gaze never leaving the uncertain Blood Elf. "tell me about your master."

Sunstalker's posture straightened. He then told Sataga about one of the most infamous figures in Azeroth's history, Illidan Stormrage.

---

A/N– Well ... that's that. By the way, the Death Elves, Sataga's people (she's the ruler, obviously), would've been originally named the Dark Elves, but I didn't want to put a name that's already in another well-known Elf society.

Oh, and don't worry Maiev fans, Maiev's going to play a major role in this story, or else I would've killed her off like I've heard she's been.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer- The actual games, Warcraft, belongs to Blizzard Entertainment.

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Chapter Three

"What the hell!" Rynix jumped as the perpetrator screamed and dropped an empty container, where it then smashed on the floor. Then, a light sobbing came from the thing, er ... person responsible for the racket concerning his beloved ale. It was a small, thin creature with skin that was darker than a human's (he had heard that these creatures had _pink_ skin, thank the Gods that he was granted with fur), and no hair was visible, except for a slightly long wave of even darker hair that was bleached from the blazing sun. Apparently, this long-eared creature did not believe in the terms "stealth" and "quiet." As the muscular Pandaren watched the creature weep, he felt his own mood switch with a much deeper feeling. Pandarens were honorable and compassionate warriors, despite their cuddly shell. Rynix certainly wasn't just an adorable bear-man with tough-looking armor.

"P-please don't harm me. I'm s-so desperate. Please don't k-kill ..." It whimpered. The brewmaster's usually curious stare turned apathetic toward the shaking form.

In a desperate attempt to hush the weeping person, the furry warrior put his hand on the _female's_ (the high-pitched sobs and overall appearance gave it away) shoulder. Overwhelming fear grasped his stomach as the female's sobs turned into an array of coughs and gasps, as if her pitiful display had sucked all of the energy out of her like a tornado stole the air from the sky. In an even _more_ desperate attempt to quiet the creature, Rynix grabbed the nearest container of half-drunk ale and lifted the girl's head up. Her face was almost completely covered with tangled, matted hair. She tried to flinch away, but she was to weak to do more than that. It was horrible seeing anyone in a state like this. Sticky remains of dried tears clung to her face along with strands of once gorgeous hair. He placed the object between the younger person's thin, parched lips.

"Drink." Rynix said. The woman's rough, shaking hands (her entire body was shaking with shock) worked their way up the warm, smooth surface. Rynix tilted it ever so slightly, and the contents slowly dripped into the dark figure's mouth. The weak creature at first was lost for words and everything else (she wasn't sure how to assess the situation), but then she suddenly widened her eyes in surprise and reeled back as if an adder had been resting in that unbroken opening, waiting to strike. He looked inside. Nope, no adder. Some of the strong drink spilled onto the sandy ground. Damn, a few drops of good ale gone to waste. Oh well. He grunted, kicked the sand lightly with a booted foot, and looked ahead. The female was sitting there, with newly-landed dust in her hair, with her limbs slightly apart, gasping for breath. Her eyes were bright and stunned.

Rynix chuckled at he noticed her eyes, they were beautiful. But of course, no match for a female Pandaren's small, beady eyes. The male Pandaren chuckled slightly.

"What ... was ... _that?" _The slim girl ahead of him gasped. The tone she used now differed from the hoarse whisper she had used before. The voice that now reached his twitching black ears was like an old, beautiful songbird. It was once lovely, but grew worn and tired over the years. Rynix Strongbrew was faced with questions about the girl, but put the questions aside as he burst into a fit of rough laughter. To the Twisted Nether with songbirds and adders, this child was reacting to the ale! Her reaction absolutely tickled the old bear as he let loose many roars of humorous delight.

The purple-skinned lass was now wobbling to her feet, with some of her strength restored. Struggling forward, she grasped a hold on a nearby rock and pressed her chest, she shivered. Where was she? What was that sound? How did she even reach this place? What, by Elune's Holy Grace was that taste in her mouth that burned her tongue? Then, she remembered, and out her slim fist into her mouth to prevent more tears from coming. She closed her eyes.

Rynix had stopped laughing and fixed his gaze on the girl. She was on the rock he used as his "thinking spot" with her eyes closed. Normally, Rynix was not so fond of strangers. He barely had enough meat and drinks for himself. Sadly, he would feel guilty if he killed her like he had with his other "visitors", although the mutated orcs and blood lusting demons that he had encountered weren't quite as hospitable, or comic relief.

Dark thoughts plagued Tyrnic as she remembered what had happened a few hours ago. It was absolutely horrible, she could barely bring herself to remember the visages of those demonic hounds that had attacked the refugee Watchers. She hoped that there were more survivors. She hoped. She glanced at the ... thing that had given that vile liquid to her. Night Elves, as well as their brethren, were very xenophobic toward the other races of Azeroth. Sadly, her people could be rather shallow. She recalled when she was much younger and she had first laid eyes on an orc. It was an old one with a streaming white beard and gnarled fingers. Its robes were completely tattered and despite its broad face, it looked starved. She remembered looking at his pearly, roaming eyes. It didn't notice her hiding in the bushes, causing mischief. The orc made a crackling sound while it trudge through the dead leaved. It had absolutely terrified her. She didn't know that there were _more _of those mongrels, she just thought she was looking at a lone and unique type of monster. She almost squealed.

Now, looking at that black-and-white thing that somewhat reminded her of a furbolg, she had to say that she wasn't as shocked as before. _Odd ... _She thought. _It doesn't seem to be a furbolg. What would a furbolg be doing here?_

But then again, what would any sane being be doing in this wasteland unless ordered to do so?

Rynix rubbed his shaggy temple and closed his beady eyes. _You're getting too old for this._ As a Pandaren, he probably should've been living like those damned cheap goblins. He probably should be on Azeroth, selling beer and making a living with roaming around and meeting all sorts of people. _I had to be deserted in this cave. He grumbled to himself_. Of course, whining about it wouldn't solve anything.

He heard movement, followed by hysterical sobbing, even worse than before. He opened his black eyes gingerly and they widened as he saw the girl grab a sharp piece of broken off material from his ale containers and hold it perilously close to her throat.

---

A/N - Hm, not as interesting as I would've liked, but it'll get better.

Up next: What is the issue with an alliance between the Death Elves and Illidan's forces? Coming up soon.


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